Short Stories
by Priodyte 4th
Summary: Just a bunch of shorts about... Well it'd be better if you just read it. RnR. P.S... I have no idea how the hell to edit stories without deleting them... so it would be helpful if anyone could tell me thx.


**Carthis- Origins**

The massive _Cerberus-Class _capitol ship banked to its side and barely dodged the volley of fire that stitched after it. After taking over three direct hits from the enemies main guns, they had decided to take evasive action. Another direct hit on the engine and the ship spiraled away, crash-landing on a planet in a system that was concealed by a large nebula.

_Carthis._

**Extraction**

'Citadel, Citadel, this is Alpha, we've retrieved the package. Repeat, package secure.'

'Copy that Alpha, sending Delta to retrieve. Stand-by.'

'Yes, sir.'

Vander opened up his visor and looked at the dust billowing from under the landing drop-ship then motioned to the captured group to get ready. A soldier hopped out of the hovering gunship and Vander helped him pull the scientists on board. They were finally getting off the damned rock. The 4th were stationed here to wait for an enemy fleet with their lead scientists to intercept and capture the scientists And take out the ships that were escorting them. The original mission was estimated to take less than a couple days, but the ship the scientists were in took an unexpected detour that delayed them by 3 months. By then, they had an entire fleet as an escort when they arrived in orbit. Luckily for the 4th, when the lead scientist, Ryule, and his team had made planetfall, the co-ordinates were incorrect and they dropped right in the middle of the 4th's camp. made short work of the guards and were being extracted before the orbiting fleet caught wind of the distress signal sent by Ryule. Vander closed his visor again and hopped aboard. They were the last ones leaving the planet. He sighed in relief when the hatch closed, hiding the ground from view. None of them would miss the Vhellia system. With billowing sands, a lot of moons and and six suns, the last thing they ever wanted to do was go back.

_3 years later_

/:_Sending transmission to ISC Orbital Base from _The Maverick:/

/:_Transmission begin:_/

++_The Balafites had managed to set up a base in the Vhellia system. By the time our Intel found out, it was way too late. They have taken over half the system by force in the span of two months. We need support. Admiral Rever out.++_

/:_Transmission end:_/

**Hephaestus **

An explosive went off over-head, sending the soldiers ducking for cover. Another explosion erupted from the wall, taking large segments out of it and knocked Private Aron off his feet. The last explosion sounded and everything went black.

The siege of Quiniisth was coming to an end, with the defending forces retreating slowly. When the walls surrounding the city collapsed under a deluge of shells that lasted for over a month, the governor of the planets decided it was time to give up. Taking three cruisers and most of the command chain with him, they fled the system. With the majority of their leaders gone, the defenders who were left over had to deal with mass panic and an enemy cutting through the hastily set defenses. Through the chaos of radio chatter, it was a surprise that a distress signal got through to the ears of a nearby Priodyte fleet passing through. They sent for reinforcements along with Carthis and Alverion, with a handful of Triandrian troop carriers. They landed and managed to drive the invaders out before the last of the Caldorians fell.

**Fyrgoth Fortress **

A squad of crusaders from the Angelica Crux were wandering around the command building when the first attack hit. Literally. Private Elias was blown clean off his feet by an explosive and his remains splattered against a wall. The rest of the squad took aim and made short work of the soldiers manning the RPG and moved up to the enemy position. What they didn't know was the enemy had armour pulling up behind the infantry, and the gunners were only a distraction.

**Lords of War**

The _Ares-class _walker fired a salvo of shells into a nearby tank, blowing its turret clean off. The sponsons opened fire, but didn't do much to the heavy armour on the walker. The walker turned to the crew jumping out of the ruined tank and the war machine fired a second round, vaporizing the them in the explosion. It turned to face the next unlucky APC and blew it to bits. It made its way over and trudged off to its next target when the machine found no one left in the wreck.

**Flames of Retribution**

_++Transmission from Yelholen Base++_

'Sir, Nothing to re-bbbbzzzzzzzzzt-What in the Emperors na-Fall back! Rep-t! Fall ba- bzzzzk-SIR! WE NE- bzzzk -ACKUP! That thi-bzzzz-Behem-h! LOOK OU-zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzt-'

_++Transmission end. Redirecting to command...++_

_-/:Redirection: Complete:/-_

_..._

'This message was received by our frontline HQ three days ago. From what we know, Yelholen base is overrun. We are assuming there are no survivors. Your task is to retrieve all equipment that can be used and the package. Collect as much info on the thing that was responsible for this mess, but do not engage it in a head on fight. Understood?'

The general leaned back into his chair. The reports of a massive Trothe war machine crushing everything in its path were overflowing is desk. Everyday, they lost at least one fortified position to the thing. He slammed his hands on the desk in frustration and ran his fingers through his pepper and salt coloured hair. The behemoth must have a weakness, but what it?

**Hestian Ruins**

A small group of soldiers slowly crept through the empty halls of the ancient bunker. It was crammed, dark and stuffy. The only sources of light were coming through the occasional firing slit. The leader held a hand up and motioned for the squad to stop and he inched forwards to a flickering dial. Behind his visor, the sergeant frowned. The bunker was over two thousand years old. How did it still work? He brushed the dust off the screen.

_095_

The man tapped the screen. It started flickering and showed a loading screen. The soldiers winced at the feedback from the speakers, then crowded around the console. This was the first one they found that didn't blink out or explode when they tried to use it. A face took over the screen and started talking.

_'Major Arden Ward, date... Ahh, screw it. If you are watching this recording, that means Hestia has been overrun. A few days ago, unidentified hostile ships began appearing in our system. Their goal: demolish anything and everything that they come across.' _The man in the recording sighed and the screen flickered. _'We can only begin to hope that you have the ability to stop them. Don't make the same mistake we did. The beacons was what lead them here. They'll be back, even if we stop-'_ The screen flickered again and an explosion sounded. _'Well, there goes that thought.' _The man pulled a rifle to his chest and yelled orders to lock down the sector._ 'If you find this recording still intact... Shit! Find 097!' And don't...' _A scream cut off whatever he was going to say next. One of the solders watching swore. The major popped back up with a bloody arm and tossed a corpse off of him. _'Whatever you DO NOT light the beacons you find on this planet! Find 097! It was our fall, but it will become your salvat-' _The screen blinked and didn't turn on again.

One of the soldiers turned around.

'What do we do, sir?'

'Simple.'

Major Joseph Troas pointed at the console.

'What we do best. We follow orders.'

_**END**_

**Reclamation **

The _Bereus-Class _battle cruiser_ Hetherington _floated through the empty space. Admiral Sereth opened up the dial, checking the status of their cargo. The item was secure. The admiral sighed in satisfaction. Then slight movement caught his eye and he turned to the officer manning the consoles.

"Get me a life form scan on Deck 3. I think there's something there."

"Yes, sir."

The main screen flickered and the ship depressurized, throwing everything into the dead of space.

++_Target neutralized. Awaiting orders. Dreadfleet, over and out.++_

**Mori Infidelis(?)-Death Before Dishonour**

++_Sending Transmission to the Iterian System Command..._++

++_This is Admiral Keith Reathen to all allies...++_

_++Just an hour ago, we found small pirate Pillager-class ships prowling around our fleet patrolling the Derbysh system, staying out of range. When we went in to attack them, a war ship flanked us and destroyed the majority of our escorts and disabled three cruisers before exiting through the picts that were sent at the last minute showed that it was a _Belaraphon-Class _warship named _The Redeemer_, the flagship of the _Devourer _fleet. It was confirmed just a moment ago at Intel. Trothe has joined the war._++

++_Reathen out_++

++_Transmission end_++

Colonel Alentis slammed the reports on the desk and looked up at the man who gave her the reports.

"Where the hell did these come from?"

"Um...The... The Admiral, ma'am. They came in this morning," said the aide, looking confused. "It said it at the beginning of the message, ma'am."

"Right," the colonel said putting the files down.

"With all due respect ma'am, you should really get some rest. Pulling three all nighters in a row isn't good for your health."

Alentis sighed and waved him off.

"I'll be in my room. Call me when you need me."

With that, she stood up and left.

**Defiant**

Anroth casually tossed a grenade over the debris and heard panic screams before a satisfying explosion. He pulled up his gun and pulled the trigger, spraying the Trothe held position. The Priodyte were said to be good at city fighting, and right now, they were proving correct. They had taken over two-thirds of the city, whereas all other attempts to attack it failed outside the walls. He sprinted over and popped another grenade, and took the hill. He activated his com.

"Alpha is secure, Beta is a go."

"Copy that."

To his right, the men of Trothe were too busy trying to kill Bohr than worry about Anroth. He smiled. This was going to end a lot faster than he anticipated.

_13 years ago..._

Bohr was standing in the remains of his hab. His parents had been killed by the blast. They were about to get their armour on when the missile struck the building. Bohr had been in the basement. He didn't cry, just stood there wide eyed with shock. He heard heavy footsteps behind him, which snapped back to reality. A big soldier was standing behind him. Bohr scrambled to the remains of the kitchen. Grabbing his knife his father gave him, Bohr pointed the knife at the figure. The soldier held up its hands and slowly stepped forwards. Stepping back, Bohr lunged. The soldier shook its head. Bohr faked a stab and drove the knife into the soldiers midsection. The soldier grunted as it stopped the blow and pulled the knife out of Bohr's hands and opened its visor.

"I'm not going to hurt you," she said. Flipping the knife around, she handed the knife hilt first to Bohr.

"My name is Roane. What's your name? how old are you?"

He cautiously moved up and grabbed the knife.

"My...my name is Bohr. I'm...uh...seven I think." Bohr said, counting his fingers.

The soldier smiled sadly and pulled the kid close. Bohr had started crying.

"You're gonna be okay."

**Minerva**

When the world ended, the sun still came up over the horizon the next day. The barren planet still orbited around its sun, along with the four other planets in the system. Blood drenched the ground of the world, seeping deep deep beneath the soil. What had happened was kept secret by the government of Detritus, the slaughter not revealed. Every day, people wondered why their neighbors had been out of communication, but their worries were calmed by the lies that were fed to the press. In reality, the government had been chilled to the bones by the last transmission received from Minerva, before losing three teams of soldiers sent to investigate. Detritus had just recovered from an economical collapse, and they didn't think that the situation on Minerva would help.

_++Decrypting...++_

_++File installation complete. Starting playback...++_

_++Dies irae solvet saeclum in favilla. Quantus tremor est futurus quando judex est venturus. Kyrie eleison.++ _

_++Playback end.++_

(The day of wrath shall consume the world in ashes. What trembling is to be when the judge is come. Lord have mercy.)

**Steel Brigade**

A lone soldier stalked through the seemingly halls of the hub. He came up to another door and gently pushed it open. He walked in and looked around, his rifle always ready in case something attacked him.

_Clear..._

He walked back out of the room and proceeded down the hall.

The next few rooms all had the doors slightly opened, as if the people who occupied them had left in a hurry. He gripped his rifle nervously when he came up to a closed door. He put a hand on the ornate door knob and quietly tried to turn it.

_Locked..._

He hoped that there was nothing in the room. Just as he was about to kick the door down, he heard something move behind the door. He gulped and mustered up all the courage he had and kicked the door as hard as he could. He walked into the room with his rifle leveled and scanned the room. He frowned. Maybe he was just hearing things. As he turned, he saw one of them in the corner.

_Shit._

She was a civilian, by the looks of it. He bit his bottom lip and gripped his rifle nervously when she looked up. She was dressed in a nightgown that showed a lot more skin than he would have liked. His com link buzzed to life.

"_Hey! Private report! Have you found anything_?"

He froze.

**Steel Storm**

_20 years ago..._

The Balafite soldier bashed his fist against the wall and screamed a string of curses in his native tongue. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. After 15 fucking years of war, the damned NavCom had started Operation Steel Storm. He felt betrayed by his commander. Operation Steel Storm was a backup plan which consisted of systematically destroying anything in the fleets path. _Everything. _Nothing would be left alive. A massed fleet of planet killers were to go right through the heart of the opposing systems, and disseminate the capital. The catch was, _everything _in their way would be crushed. Including all civilians. And the majority of the 12th. They were given no time to withdraw and had almost no orbital support because they left when the order came through. A lot of officers in NavCom disagreed, but it was the Master of the Fleets' choice. He slammed his fist into the wall again and yelled in anger. He felt so... Helpless. Usually he could fight things that were intent on killing him, but now, he couldn't. It frustrated him. He looked around the room with his squadmates bodies and hammered the wall with his war hammer until the wall gave. He let the weapon fall to the ground and sank to his knees. Leaning his helmeted head against the wall, he let the bliss of unconsciousness take over his senses.

(Imagine them speaking in a Scottish accent.)

Sergeant Blight moved from the heavily guarded tank depot to the med bay. He had left Sergey there because of loose drag that he caught the last time they were out. It was most definitely not fatal, but Sergey had screamed like a woman. It was hilarious to say the least. He shook his head. _Not now, dumbass_, he scolded himself. _After he outta the damn care centre. Then we can laugh all we want. _The sergeant batted away the flaps and moved into the care centre and found a doctor.

"Can Sergey move?" Blight asked.

"Not 'less ya wan' shrapnel goin' inta his spine and paralyzing 'im, no."

Blight swore and asked the doctor for directions to Sergey's room. The doctor pointed and left to deal with the other patients. Walking down the hall, he bumped into his squad.

"Vis'ting Sergey, huh sarge?"

"Ye. Don' think I'm that much o' a self'sh bast'rd."

The soldiers laughed.

**Prototype**

_-Onboard the Halcyon-Class prototype cruiser Deaths Herald- Maiden voyage-_

**STATUS**: Under attack/ Shields at 20% and depleting.

"Sir! Our shields are gone!"

The captain laughed darkly.

"Good."

"With all due respect, what do you mean 'good'? You want us to die?"

The captain ignored the man and opened the channel to the gun decks.

"Fire at will."

The sides of the _Herald _lit up and vaporized the attacking fleet. The bridge went quiet, and a cheer erupted. The captain slumped in his chair, his confident facade gone and hit the comms.

"This is _Deaths Herald. _It works."

_**END**_

**Guns and Politics**

Oskaar von Hrendiger walked across the street with a smug grin on his face. The man stopped at the main entrance of a large mansion. He motioned to the set of guards and they opened the set of barred gates. Opening the door, Oskaar stepped in to his house and laughed. Sitting down at the monitor, he started typing.

++From: von Hrendiger++

++_I am reporting today another success. The High Marshal still does not suspect any foul play. We will be in control soon..._++

++Recipient unknown++

"Sir! Why have we not done anything to stop the damned politicians?"

"Hands are tied Priestly. I can't do anything to stop them."

**Day of Wrath**

The enemy flagship came into view on the gun decks. The crew checked their aim and opened fire. The sides of the smaller capital ship lit up as ballistics and lasers hit its hull. The shields flickered but held. Yelling over the klaxons, the captain directed the prow of the ship at the enemy. He smiled evilly and gave the order to the engine room to go all forwards. His smile fell and he froze when he saw the words etched onto the hull of the enemy ship.

_Dies Irae_

"SHIT! RETREAT! RETREA-"

In space, they say you cannot hear a man scream. The crew of the _Irae _say otherwise.

_**End**_


End file.
